If Wishes Came True
by patemalah21
Summary: Strange things are happening at Baker Street. What in the world is going on? Birthday fic. for the lovely Maple Leaf Cameo.


_This story is dedicated to the lovely Maple Leaf Cameo. She is an awesome story teller. If you are not familiar with her works, be sure to check them out. She has some truly inventive and creative stuff and I am in awe and am quite jealous of her abilities. Happy Birthday MLC, may the crows in your back yard not heckle you on this day that is yours to enjoy!_

_Fluff Alert_

**If Wishes Came True**

Molly placed the figurine back on the shelf. Cleaning was such a thankless job. She picked up the next porcelain cat and gently wiped the accumulation of two months of dust away. Really, why bother? It wasn't as if anyone besides herself would even notice the dust was there. No one ever visited her bedroom. She glanced about the room. It did look better, she decided. The windows shone and the new curtains wavered in the breeze. They matched the summer weight duvet and pillow shams she had purchased. Her room had transformed into a lovely inviting space. Molly sighed and determined to clean more often. No sense in allowing things to slide, just because she was thirty-four, single, and a cat lover without any romantic prospects in sight. She turned back to the job at hand. Only the highest shelf remained to be dusted. It was out of reach, so she pulled a kitchen chair up to the bookcase and stood on it. These items were a smorgasbord of memories from her childhood and uni days. A lot of this stuff should either be binned or stored away she decided. What adult woman still displayed her Barbie, Ken and Midge dolls? She climbed down, retrieved the bin from the kitchen and a cardboard storage box from the hall closet. Ken, Barbie, and Midge went into storage while most of the tchotchkes including a pile of review pages from uni, were dumped unceremoniously into the bin. She picked up a wooden carved jewelry box and ran her fingers lovingly over its delicate surface. Most of the jewelry inside was from her school days and were inexpensive bangles, rings, and necklaces. Tucked into a corner of the felt ring holder was a shiny bit of silver. Molly pulled it free.

She had forgotten she had kept this. She slipped the small bit of twisted gum wrapper onto her finger. The ends came together to form a small knot not unlike a setting in a ring. Molly smiled. She had just started working at Bart's and she had been a little overwhelmed with her new job and its responsibilities. Just when she thought she had a handle on everything, he had breezed into her lab. Mike Stamford had warned her about him, but nothing prepared her for the reality that was Sherlock Holmes. He was tall, with an oddly attractive face framed by longish black curls. In addition to good looks, he displayed a keen intellect that was rather overwhelming. Molly, always a sucker for the smart ones, didn't stand a chance. It was love, if not a first sight, then definitely by the end of his first visit. He and a silver haired policeman had come to see the body of a recent post mortem. Sherlock had taken all of ten seconds to observe the body and proceeded to inform the officer everything it had taken her three hours of painstaking tests and autopsy to determine. He had just rattled off the information as if it were written on the body in permanent maker. Molly was impressed and was instantly and irrevocably in love. Not long after that, she had discovered the gum wrapper ring as she cleaned up after Sherlock in the lab. He had evidently fiddled with the foil lined paper as he sat thinking. On a silly impulse Molly had kept it and added it to her treasures.

Molly sighed once more, and gently pulled the 'ring' from her finger and held it over the bin. It was juvenile and quite silly to keep it. Her hand hesitated there, hovering. She was such a ninny. She placed it back in the ring holder, closed the box and placed it in the storage box beside Ken and Barbie.

One last item remained on the bookshelf. Molly picked up the tall decorative glass bottle. There wasn't as much dust on it as everything else. It had only been on the shelf a couple of weeks. Molly had shoved it there after the Charity Masked Ball. It had been part of her 'Genie Costume.' Molly had had high hopes for it. The costume was definitely a bit more risqué than she was comfortable with, but she had been desperate to get the attention of a certain consulting detective. When Sherlock had suddenly announced at the end of the party that he was going to spend the night at her house, Molly had been ecstatic. Unfortunately, Sherlock had only wanted to sit on her sofa. John was entertaining his conquests for the night and Sherlock required peace and quiet. Molly had dithered in the kitchen making tea, offering biscuits until Sherlock had sharply told her to stop bothering him. A very disappointed Molly had gone to bed only to find him gone in the morning. So much for her dreams!

Molly rubbed the bottle with her cleaning cloth.

"You are supposed to make wishes come true," she softly chided as she wiped away the accumulated dust. "If you were a real Genie's bottle what would I ask of you?" she mused aloud. "I know, I wish that everyone I know has their wishes come true today." She giggled. "There!" she exclaimed as she placed the bottle back on the shelf. "You'll be busy today, I know lots of people!" Molly clambered down from the chair and picked up the storage box to put back into the hall closet. She didn't see the bottle on the high shelf begin to sparkle and glow.

**ɸ**

Mike Stamford sat behind his desk. He stared at his computer.

"Alice, come in here!" Mike shouted excitedly to his assistant.

Alice stuck her head in the door. Mike grinned at her, "You know how I said I wished we had more money to run our current projects? Take a look at this! We have just received a twenty percent budget increase!"

**ɸ**

"Anderson! Try not to step in the blood! I wish you would work a crime scene without botching it up," Sherlock growled.

"Oh shut up!" Anderson replied. "Just once I wish you would smash that big head of yours into a brick wall!"

"All right that's enough! Everyone just shut up. We have a crime scene here if you haven't noticed," Lestrade roared. "Let's concentrate on that okay?"

It grew quiet but Anderson and Sherlock were still bristling at each other. If looks could kill, Sally would have Sherlock six foot under before lunch. Lestrade sighed in frustration as he mumbled to himself. "I just wish they could all get along."

Surprisingly enough, everyone did settle down. Before long, Sherlock was able determine several key bits of information and had even given Anderson an awkward back handed compliment on his blood splatter observations. Would wonders never cease?

**ɸ**

John came down the stairs from his bedroom. It was his day off and he had planned on lazing about all day. He hated to admit it, but his current romantic partners were about to get the best of him. He had met the girls at the masked ball. They had come dressed as Siamese twins and assured John that they would not be separated for anything or anyone. They were fun and he did appreciate their talents deeply, but it was a struggle to keep up with them.

"I wish I had the stamina I had when I was nineteen," he mused aloud to himself as he headed to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. After drinking the tea, he searched the kitchen for something to eat. He found half a loaf of bread and decided to make toast. He looked for jam to put on the toast, but only found an empty jar.

"Damn," he groaned, "I wish I had something to put on this toast." He cast his eyes about and was pleasantly pleased to see a full jam jar sitting amongst the clutter of Sherlock's experiments. John eyed the jar. It looked okay. There was a scrap of paper attached with a rubber band that said, _"Try this, I made it myself. Mrs. H."_ Part of the message was missing; evidently Sherlock had needed it for a note or something. John opened the jar and smelled it carefully. One could not be too cautious around Sherlock. It smelled pleasantly of lemons. He stuck his finger in and then licked it. Not bad, a little gooey, perhaps Mrs. Hudson had not cooked it long enough to gel properly. He generously slathered the toast and poured himself another cup of tea. Four slices of toast and three cups of tea later, John was ready to face the day. He felt oddly energetic.

"Knock, knock!" Mrs. Hudson's cheerful voice rang out as she entered 221b. Seeing John look up from his laptop she began to talk excitedly. "You'll never guess what happened! I was talking with Mrs. Turner only this morning saying that I hadn't won anything on the scratch off cards for ages and that I wished that today would be my lucky day. I just won John! I won a hundred pounds!" Mrs. Hudson did a little dance across the floor.

"That's wonderful Mrs. Hudson," John congratulated. "What do you plan to do with the money? Go on holiday?"

"Oh, I don't think so dear. I couldn't possibly spare the time. I think I will buy more lottery tickets," she said enthusiastically.

"Okay," John said in a doubtful tone. "By the way, thanks for the jam. It was quite delicious."

"Jam?" Mrs. Hudson questioned, "I didn't give you any jam." She looked at the table and saw the half empty jar on the table. "You don't mean that do you? That's not jam, that's drain deodorizer! You didn't eat that did you?" She looked at John in horror.

John stared back. "What is in it?" He managed to croak.

"Oh It's all natural dear," she assured him. She listed off the ingredients and John was somewhat relieved that there was nothing toxic in the list. "I can't believe you couldn't taste the soap," she said somewhat reproachfully. "I clearly labeled the jar and handed it to Sherlock himself."

"It's okay Mrs. H., I'll be fine. It's just kind of a surprise you know," John reassured her.

Mrs. Hudson shook her head as she looked at the torn label. "That boy is going to be the death of someone yet. I'm going downstairs and call poison control and make sure you are going to be okay." She headed off down the stairs in spite of John assuring her he would be fine.

A few minutes later Sherlock clumped up the stairs to 221b and burst through the door.

"John, I think I broke my nose," he whined. The detective's face was slightly bloody, with some scrape marks and swelling over the cheekbone on the left side of the face.

"What happened? Who hit you?" John asked as he inspected the damage and handed Sherlock some ice wrapped in a towel.

"No one," Sherlock mumbled in a rather embarrassed voice. "I ran into a brick wall."

John stared at his friend. "How did you do that?"

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders and winced. "I was running after the murderer and all of a sudden a wall jumped out in front of me."

"Jumped out in front of you? Really, Sherlock," John grinned.

"Well it felt like it did," Sherlock complained.

"Yoohoo, boys!" Mrs. Hudson greeted. "John, I called poison control and they said you should be alright, being a doctor and all they didn't think it would be necessary for you to go to hospital. You may develop some diarrhea from the soap."

"What's going on?" Sherlock demanded.

Mrs. Hudson told him how John had accidentally eaten drain deodorizer.

John gave a sudden groan. "I think I can feel something coming on," he said as he headed for the loo. "This is all your fault Sherlock, If you hadn't removed the label I would have not accidentally eaten drain freshener."

"My fault? Now it's my fault that you ate half a jar of the stuff? If you hadn't been such a pig you wouldn't be sick right now!" Sherlock huffed.

The only answer from John was an agonized groan from the direction of the loo.

**ɸ**

_Later that day_

"What do you mean you are inviting the twins over?" Sherlock demanded. "This is the third time this week. How can you possibly be interested in that much sex John? Besides, aren't you feeling poorly?"

John looked at the outraged detective and grinned. "I feel fine, in fact I feel great! You know I think there must have been something in that stuff I ate this morning. I definitely am feeling invigorated!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "There was nothing in the ingredients to produce such an effect. It's just your imagination John."

"Well then, I have a terrific imagination," John grinned. "I haven't felt this randy in years."

Sherlock rolled his eyes again. "Spare me the details John."

"You know what your problem is Sherlock? You need to relax and have a good time. A little sex would do wonders for you."

"Please, I'll leave the shenanigans up to you. Someone around here needs to be level headed," Sherlock said.

"No really, I'm serious. I wish you would find a nice girl or guy and give it a fling. You might decide it's rather nice to not be so uptight all the time."

"I am not uptight!" Sherlock huffed.

"Yes you are," John laughed. "You are the most uptight person I know."

ɸ

It was almost ten o'clock when Molly's doorbell rang. She cautiously looked through the peep hole. She opened the door.

"Sherlock, If you want something from the morgue, it will have to wait until tomorrow. It's almost my bedtime." She paused and stared at his face. "What happened to you? You look like you ran into a brick wall."

Sherlock groaned. "It's nothing. I got it while chasing a murderer today."

"Oh, my goodness! Are you okay?" Molly's hand automatically reached up and lightly touched his cheek. "You didn't crack any ribs or anything did you?"

"I'm fine Molly," Sherlock reassured her. He found it oddly comforting that she was concerned for his welfare. Sherlock swept past the pathologist, removed his coat and scarf and threw himself on her sofa. "I'm bored Molly. John is entertaining tonight and you would not believe the groans and shrieks coming out of his room. It's positively indecent."

"Oh dear!" Molly said and turned red.

"Exactly. So you won't object to me staying the night? Your flat is much quieter and I have a curious puzzle to work on."

"Alright," Molly agreed. She couldn't help but feel a delicious tingle even though she knew he would just be sitting on her sofa all night. "What puzzle are you working on? Perhaps I could help?"

"I doubt it," Sherlock replied. "Unless you know the reason everyone is doing the strangest things today." Sherlock gave a deep sigh and ruffled his hands through his hair in agitation. "It's very strange. It's almost as if people are being compelled." Sherlock shook his head. "I wish I could figure it out."

Molly stiffened. "Is it like wishes coming true?"

Sherlock stared at her. Molly could almost see wheels and gears moving behind his eyes.

"Oh!" he said quietly. "Molly," Sherlock said calmly. "I wish you would kiss me."

"What?" Molly squeaked.

"I wish you would kiss me," Sherlock repeated staring at her intently.

"Why?" Molly asked suspiciously. She would love to kiss him, but he was watching her in the most unromantic way .She didn't want to kiss him like this. "No," she said. "What's going on?"

Sherlock just sat watching and waiting. He made no move to kiss her. Molly stared back. Her hands turned clammy. She felt her unwilling body lean closer to the detective. "No," she murmured as her lips met his. As a kiss it was not great. Sherlock made no move to participate. Molly drew back finally and stared at him in horror. "Oh my goodness, Sherlock I am so sorry. I did not mean to do that!"

"I could tell," he said dryly. "Now Molly, I wish that you would kick Toby."

"What? No! Are you crazy?" Molly stood up and glared down. "Why would you ask me to do such a thing? What's wrong with you? I think you had better leave!" Molly gathered Sherlock's coat and scarf and held them out for him to put on. The scarf dangled down and swayed back and forth. Toby reached up and snagged one of his claws in the temping object. Molly glanced down. "No, Toby, bad kitty. Please leave Sherlock's scarf alone." Toby ignored his mistress and continued batting at the scarf. It was only a matter of time before he created a snag. In frustration, Molly gave the cat a gentle nudge. When that didn't work she gently kicked him. Toby let out an indignant squawk and scurried under the sofa.

"Ahah!" Sherlock shouted in satisfaction. "I thought so."

"What are you talking about Sherlock?" Molly asked exasperatedly. "I think you had better go."

"Stop and think. What did you just do Molly?" Sherlock asked patiently.

"I stood up and held your coat and asked you to leave," Molly said in an aggravated voice.

"What else?"

"What do you mean what else?" Molly stared at him. Her eyes widened. "I kicked Toby!" she whispered. "I have never kicked a cat in my life! " Tears began to well up, she felt absolutely wretched.

'Yes," Sherlock grinned. "I think for whatever reason, wishes are coming true today." Suddenly he became very uncomfortable. "Molly," he said stiffly. "I think it would be best if I left now." He stood up and took his coat from her and put it on.

"Why the change of mind?" Molly asked.

"Never mind, just trust me it is best if I go," Sherlock said uncomfortably.

Molly stared. She might not be as smart as Sherlock Holmes, but she was reasonably bright and able to add two and two together.

"Did someone make a wish about you?" She asked.

Sherlock nodded.

"Was it John?"

Nod.

"Ah," Molly looked at him solemnly. "This wish, will come true no matter what? Molly asked gently.

Nod.

"Sherlock, do you want to leave?"

"No."

"Together, we can find a way that nothing happens," Molly promised.

"What if I don't mind? What if I want whatever you want?" He asked.

"We will figure something out," Molly promised. "Perhaps I can do what do what the fairies did in Sleeping Beauty, I can make a wish to counter the first one." She thought carefully. "I wish Sherlock Holmes to be able do what he wants to do this night, not from compulsion of a wish, but of his own free will. There!" she smiled brightly at her beloved detective, "that should do it don't you think?"

"Mmm," Sherlock agreed. A wicked glint began to shine in his eyes. "Molly Hooper, I wish you would kiss me properly this time."

"Sherlock!" Molly yelped as he lowered his face and his lips melted with hers.

The End


End file.
